Reversal and Redemption
by DefinitelyNotFeitan
Summary: A one-shot. Chrollo has turned the tables at last with the singular act of capturing Kurapika, but now that he has him, what will he do? M rating for the fact that there's implied NSFW at the end. (I hope you sinners enjoy.)


For "schwanendreher" on Tumblr.

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The leader of the Phantom Troupe approached the cell door, no longer without _Nen_ and determined to face the one who had taken away not one but two of his comrades. Entering, he approached Feitan who was standing guard, waiting for further instructions.

"I believe this is the first time the situation has been reversed, chain user," Chrollo spoke, the walls of the cell echoing.

In the darkness, the sound of metal clinking ensured the fact that their captive was indeed awake.

"Shut the hell up. If you're going to kill me go ahead and do it like you did to the rest of my clan." His cold response was expected, but still hurt in a way he didn't want to admit. Chrollo looked at the short man next to him, expecting some sort of news, but Feitan just closed his eyes with a slight shake of his head. The head spider sighed. He realized he'd be stubborn, but maybe not this much.

"Listen, we don't have to keep doing this."

"Keep doing what?" He saw a smothered glow of red eyes light itself in the darkness, metal clanging. "I know what you people are like. You feel no remorse for the ones you've killed and don't care about what happens to the ones left behind."

"That was an accident."

"Yes. It was."

Chrollo couldn't tell without seeing his facial expression if he felt pain or pride in that fact, but it had lost a lot of its ferocious tone from earlier.

A moment passed before he put a hand on Feitan's shoulder, startling him.

"You can go, I've got this." The transmuter didn't leave immediately but his face told him what he didn't say: _Good luck_.

When the fellow spider had left, Chrollo went to the light switches, flicking them on. He squinted for a bit, letting his eyes readjust before turning around to see the Kurta.

Chains held his wrists above his head and the majority of his clothes were in shreds, revealing the many scars that ravaged the boy's body. The blonde hair, still tousled and unkempt, was unwashed and lay flat against his head. He closed his eyes. He had come here with every intention of doing a serious interrogation, but something inside him said that wasn't what he should do.

"What do you want with me anyways?" He heard the boy speak, anger still evident in his voice. Chrollo didn't know how to answer, so he stayed quiet, focusing instead on breathing. "That's why you haven't killed me right? I can't give you anything you haven't already taken from me." A pang in his chest told him Kurapika was not lying.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" he heard himself asking.

"By dying," came the quick, spiteful retort, but the conjurer was taken aback by Chrollo's reaction.

"Wait. Are… you being sincere?"

The leader could only nod, not quite sure why he wanted to get the other to forgive him so much.

 _Well, I do want him in the Troupe. He'd be a great asset to us._ Even though he knew it was only half true, he didn't let himself think on it any further.

"I want you to join the Troupe. Besides," he added when he saw the blonde's eyes narrow, "it'd be a waste of such a pretty face." He smiled at the end, hoping to score some sympathy points, but failed miserably.

"Go to hell."

And this is why Feitan's the interrogator. Chrollo moved forward, no clear objective in mind about what to do. While usually he had a plan when doing this sort of thing, with someone like Kurapika, he wanted to let his heart lead him, just to see what would happen. He stopped two feet in front of the Kurta, who glared at him, but he could feel an air of uncertainty about him.

Probably because he doesn't understand my motive. Well, he's not alone. The specialist brought up his hand to cradle the others face. While neither of their facial expressions changed, he could feel the heat rising in the blonde's cheeks.

"I can free you of your sins." He pushed back some hair from the captive's face, admiring how luminescent his skin was despite the conditions.

"And how would you propose to do that?" Kurapika rolled his eyes, desperately wanting to look anywhere but the spider's face.

Chrollo activated his Bandit's Secrets book, retracting his hand from the other's cheek to search for the right page.

"I have an ability in here called Angel's Kiss," he explained to the skeptic blonde. "It can heal any physically inflicted injury," nodding his head at the boy's body he continued, "and you seem to have acquired quite a lot."

The spider could tell he had embarrassed him, but it was the first thing he could think of as far as doing something him or his friends couldn't already do. After a moment of consideration, Kurapika agreed, but would decide on whether to forgive him until afterwards.

Making sure to hold open the book, Chrollo closed the distance between himself and the one chained to the wall. Lightly, he began to kiss at each scar. With each peck, an injury disappeared, but he could tell it made the conjurer uncomfortable since he could feel him squirming.

"I could stop if you'd like?" He asked, looking up into the others dark eyes, the scarlet glow having faded. Kurapika, unable to actually form words out of sheer embarrassment just shook his head, letting his hair fall in front of his face.

Gathering some courage, the spider continued, finishing the collarbone area and working his way down his torso. Chrollo couldn't help but notice how handsome the blonde's body was as he kissed his abs, the scars quickly fading.

 _The Greeks would have considered him a living God and made statues of him._ The leader of the troupe felt his face warm with the thought, but was quick to dismiss it. He didn't think much of it when he went below the waistline to get some other marks, but he could feel the boy jolt when he grabbed his waist for stability.

He paused, unsure of whether to continue, but instead of a biting comment, all he heard was slightly labored breathing. Too shy to look up, he resumed his job, but with a little more passion.

Later, if he were to be asked why he did this, he would have answered something along the lines of wanting to make him squirm, but he would know that would be just another lie he told himself. He was actually really enjoying this, and actually, really enjoying him.

Chrollo kissed his exposed hip, allowing himself to use his tongue. He heard a gasp from above as Kurapika's back arched. He let his tongue trail a bit, moving to the next spot on his hips without breaking contact. He gave similar kisses to other spots, enjoying the squeaks and sighs he heard from the blonde.

Out of his peripheral vision he saw something move, so he moved back only to realize with slight horror that his pants were a little tighter than usual, and apparently so were the chain user's.

He cleared his throat to gain the others attention, trying to spare them both the embarrassment of having to make eye contact.

"I could… you know…" Chrollo coughed into his free hand, conscious of the blush that more than likely stretched across his face. "…take care of that for you."

Not in a hundred years would he have imagined such a situation to develop, and yet oddly enough, here he was. Though to be truthful, he was kind of liking it.

He glanced up, wondering if the other had fallen asleep, but realized that Kurapika was in fact just gaping at him.

"Or you know…" Chrollo got up quickly, the blood rushing to his head. "I don't have to. It was a stupid suggestion anyways." He began to mumble to himself, the blood pounding in his temples.

"Wait, no." It was so soft, he almost didn't catch it, but he held his breath to make sure he could hear the rest of what the blonde had to say.

"Um, if you would… please?" It came almost like a plea, so fragile of a request it was. He already knew his answer to the question.

Turning to face him now, he feigned calm with his next inquiry, hoping to sweeten the deal. "Will you join the troupe?"

A tinkling of bells, the conjurer's laugh, filled the room, letting slip of what little control Chrollo had over his facade of collectiveness.

"That depends on how well you do."


End file.
